by Gerard Nerval The Thirteenth returns... Once more she is the first; And she is still the only one, or is this the only moment; For you are surely queen, first and last? For you are surely king, O first and last lover?... Love the one who loves you from the cradle to the grave; The one alone I love loves me dearly still: She is death - or the dead one... Delight or torment! And the rose she holds is the hollyhock. Saint of Naples with your hands full of fire, Mauve-hearted rose, flower of Saint Gudule: Have you discovered your cross in the desert of the skies? White roses, fall! you offend our gods,
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